Excel

--

Unblinking he sat in the car, catatonic, staring out at the world as it sped up and slowed down in erratic intervals around him. The people moved in a shapeless, formless rush; water going downstream, eddies forming around doors and windows and cars.

It was all a complex dance with constant movement; a set number of programmed robots following their preordained orders- going about their routine, inconsequential lives with the exact measured amount of attention and focus, precise and almost perfect. It was clockwork on an ever-rotating schedule of days, weeks, months, years.

He was nothing more than these people. And he hated it. Nothing more than another rat scurrying towards a destination that was of no consequence to anything. The world outside his window was tinted (tainted) with his brand of contempt, of need for something else, of scorn for all those who wanted nothing better- his parents, his few friends.

He couldn't live like this. He wasn't meant to live like this. He would be better.

He would be special.

His mother opened the door with a click and a shift, sliding herself into the driver's seat and turning the ignition as she smiled over at her son. "Sorry I took so long, Gabe."

He nodded with a mild expression, trying for a smile but failing. She was a good person, good and normal, but he'd rather die than live like she did. He'd rather die than be normal, than be a good person.

As she inserted the car back into the click and rotation of constant traffic, effortlessly joining the downstream, he glared contemptuously out the window at the general atmosphere of his life.

He could feel that slow pull towards something like individuality- something extraordinary. It was completely irresistible; it was madness and insanity and fever, ever so gently tugging him away from the bland tapestry of society and brushing his mind with images of colour and life (and death).

He would escape this.

There were no other options.